8 After 100
by ARtheBard
Summary: My thoughts on the emotional states of the team after the events in the episodes "100" and "Slave of Duty".
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is my take on what happened to the team following the events of the episodes "100" and "The Slave of Duty". Taking some major liberties with Criminal Minds in this one as I'm referencing the event of those two episodes as part of my story. No offense intended. Just playing with their emotions a bit. It's kind of short and a bit different from my others. Hope y'all enjoy it.**

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They had pulled away from each other. More than once Emily had flashed back to her lament on her wedding day that things had been too good. Had she known the karmic flip could be this dire, this rending she never would have let her mother calm her nerves. But the events of the past two weeks had driven a wedge between her and JJ, her and the team, between them all. They were planets orbiting around a sun, able to see each other in the distance but unable to catch up to each other, to support each other as their sun imploded.

George Foyet had invaded their solar system and decimated it.

Sitting in the back of the SUV as Morgan drove as fast as possible towards the Hotchner residence Emily had gripped JJ's hand, drawing and giving strength in equal measure. They had arrived too late. Foyet killed Hailey. Hotch killed Foyet. But the bastard had still won. Somehow Foyet had killed them all.

Emily turns from stirring her coffee. She looks out of the kitchenette towards the bull pen. Hotch's office was dark. It would be for a while. She could just barely make out Rossi in his own office, staring off into space as he did most days.

Her gaze drops down to Reid. She knows he runs stats through his head everyday, trying to figure out what they could have done differently; how they could have saved Hailey. He no longer reads for fun. Everything is studies on serial killers and psychopaths. He has systematically gone through every case study ever done by the BAU, wondering what they had missed in studying "The Reaper."

Because when it all came down to it, they all knew they had killed themselves. They had missed the clues, missed the mistakes, missed the inconsistencies. They had failed all the people Foyet murdered. It wasn't the first time that people had died before they stopped a killer they were tracking. But it was the first time they felt the burning sting of failure so deeply. It was a festering wound with no sign of healing, or even scabbing over, anytime soon.

Her eyes move to the door as Morgan barrels into the office. Without seeing the gym bag in his hand she would have known he'd spent two hours that morning working out. That evening he would spend 2 hours at the shooting range. She knows this because she keeps the opposite schedule to avoid seeing her best friend.

Her best friend. Did she have a best friend any more? Did she have any friends any more? Did she have a wife any more? A son? When was the last time she'd actually spoken to JJ; _really_spoken to her? When was the last time she'd looked into Henry's eyes and imagined his future? It just all hurt too fucking much.

Emily had stopped building compartments. She had opened herself up to emotions. And she had been shattered by them. Now she fights to remember what she has forgotten. How do you build the compartments back up? How do you shut out the pain? How do you make yourself take breath after breath when all you want to do is let the pressure suffocate you and put you out of your misery?

Emily stares down at her coffee. She had nearly shot a man. She had watched her arm shake against the overwhelming urge to shoot him in the face. The team should never have gone to Nashville. Fuck Straus and her whole "no other team is available" line of bullshit. This team is walking wounded and they never should have gone.

If they hadn't gone, Emily wouldn't have to regret not ending Joe Belser's life.

She tosses her coffee, mug and all, into the sink. People hear the clatter and look up in time to see her storm out. In the past, Reid or Morgan or Rossi would have chased her down to see what was wrong. But they know. And they are hurt too much themselves to try to heal the dark-haired profiler, too.


	2. Chapter 2

Reid watches Emily storm out. No one knew where she went when she left. He wasn't sure anyone had the strength to care anymore.

He looks back at the files scattered on his desk. There was nothing. He had poured over every case he could remember. He had searched files for ones he had never heard of before. He'd even tracked down the original, handwritten notes from the early days of the BAU. There must be something in the mountains of information they had to explain why things have gone so horribly wrong.

Reid squeezes his nose, trying to get the headache that was his constant companion to go away. For some reason he had thought that going to Nashville, solving that case, would somehow set things right for the team. But they had come back to Straus and her damn inquisition.

Everyone felt the chief was trying to get them to blame each other or Hotch. And she was. Someone needed to take a fall for this. A U.S. Marshall was dead, tortured until he succumbed to the wounds. Hailey was dead. Hotch was broken. Someone had to pay in Straus' eyes.

What that woman couldn't see is that they already _were_ paying. They didn't trust each other any more. They didn't trust themselves. They existed in this office in name and body only. The spirit was dead. Or if not dead, gravely wounded.

Emily had snapped. And the worst part was, no one stepped up to her. No one tried to stop her. Everyone had waited, wanting, needing to see her kill that man. Reid had been disappointed when she didn't fire. With his leg injury he could only watch from the sidelines so he had no chance to make things right. He wanted the man dead because he deserved to die.

Reid stares down at his desk. When had he dubbed himself judge, jury and executioner? And why didn't that bother him like it should?

Reid stands. He knows there must be a file somewhere that he has missed. A file somewhere that will cauterize the infected wounds that weep within them.

"I'll be in the archives," he mutters to no one in particular as he leaves.

Instead of turning to the drugs that a small voice in his head says will make him feel better, Reid throws himself into research. He has traded one addiction for another and both are capable of destroying him.

If there is no answer to be found, what exactly will he have to live for?


	3. Chapter 3

Morgan watches him leave. The five words Reid had spoken being five more than Morgan had heard in two days. Not that Morgan was counting. Or caring. It was just something he noticed.

He stares at the files on his desk. There was a time he'd play a game, tossing a pencil in the air and whichever file it landed on was the one he'd look at next. Now he just doesn't care. He doesn't care which file arrived first, which case is most dire, which killer is most likely to strike again soon, or which victim could be saved next.

Only two victims matter to him anymore. One lost her life before they could get to her. One lost his soul.

He gets up and heads into the kitchenette. He looks at the remnants of Emily's coffee in the sink. The shattered mug reminds him of his team…his family. The coffee splatter is their blood, spilled by the actions of a madman. How can they repair themselves?

He had buried himself in training. Gym in the morning, shooting range at night, as if those two things would have made the outcome any different. He had even scheduled time at the driving range on the weekends. Maybe if he had driven faster, a little more recklessly they would have gotten there in time.

They might not have saved Hailey but they could have saved Hotch.

Hotch…the man was fighting to stay above water for his son. Morgan had seen the look in his eyes when he cradled his dead wife. He had never seen a man so shattered before. But then Hotch had gone to Jack. He had compartmentalized so fast, so well it made Prentiss look like an open book.

But Morgan had seen the truth. He had seen the man break and knew that fissure was at best taped over. It certainly wasn't fixed.

And what the hell had Morgan done to help him? Hell, Morgan didn't know how to help himself how the hell could help Hotch? How could he help anyone?

He had wanted Emily to shoot that bastard Belser. He had tried to will her to fire. He had wanted to see someone bleed. He had wanted to feel like they had made someone pay for their crimes. He had never been an advocate for vigilante justice and now he is scared. All he wants to do is track down all the bastards in all the files and end them; to make sure they can never do to someone else what Foyet has done to them.

Morgan puts his still empty coffee cup down. He goes to his desk and grabs his gym bag. Time to go pound on a heavy-bag until his hands bleed. Again. Until the rage firing within him calms.

He can't remember the last time the fire hadn't been an inferno.


	4. Chapter 4

Garcia sees Morgan storming towards the stairs, gym bag in hand. She knew he would come to her later to get her help bandaging his hands. They wouldn't tease each other, they wouldn't flirt. She would simply help bandage him and he would leave.

She turns and heads back to her lair. She pulls up all the information she has on "The Reaper" cases. She starts to read it again. Searching for more data. Looking for more connections. Begging the Fates to let her find the one piece of the puzzle she missed.

And she knows she missed something.

Her computers have access to every database in the world. She even has access to databases she's not supposed to. If it can be hacked, she can get into it. And no system is perfect so she _can_ hack it. Somewhere, buried in cyberspace, in circuitry, in a file somewhere is the thread she didn't get to pull.

She had wept alone when the gun went off. They all knew it wasn't a taunt or a trick. They knew that shot meant Hailey was dead. They had waited for Foyet to call again. To tell Hotch it was time for Jack to die. Instead her next call had been from JJ, telling her that Jack was okay.

But how okay was he? His father, his hero, was broken. Yes, he was putting on a brave face for Jack but kids know. Jack knows his mother is gone, taken by a maniac for no reason other than sport. Jack knows his father stopped the bad man. And for now that was enough. But what about later? When Jack is older and wants to know why Hotch hadn't saved Hailey.

Garcia wants to be able to show Jack, explain to him, map it all out for him why things happened the way they did. She wants Jack to understand it was her fault not Hotch's. She had missed something and as a result Jack's life was thrust into chaos. If she can do nothing else for Hotch, she would do this.

If only she can find that thread.


	5. Chapter 5

JJ watches her best friend once again analyzing and searching for more data on George Foyet. JJ knows what's going through Garcia's mind and knows she should say something to ease her best friend's guilt. But if she can't help her wife how can she help Garcia?

JJ walks away from the analyst's office, the reason for her visit forgotten. She walks into her office and sees the stacks and stacks of files. Everyone one of them held a case that was dear to someone's heart. A detective who wanted a spree to end. A family member that wanted someone to pay for their loved ones' death. Someone, somewhere cared about those cases.

JJ didn't give a damn.

There had been a time when she had carefully looked over the files, making notes on which team members specialty would best serve the case. She had set some aside to get more information. She would choose the one that was the biggest red flag and send the team out like the cavalry, swooping in to save the day.

Now she can barely focus on a few a day. She just didn't care about helping someone in another city when there were 6 people right here she couldn't help. One of which she loved.

At least she thought she did. She and Emily were floating around each other at work and at home. They'd even taken to driving in separately since Emily had been working out at the gym and range before and after work.

Reid was like her little brother and she was watching him drive himself into madness researching old cases. What did he hope to accomplish? Why didn't she intervene?

She stares at the wedding photo on her desk. The mothers of the brides were right, the team did look like zombies. Garcia had even found a "Zombie Apocalypse" photo frame for it. JJ lifts it up and stares at it. It had been less than a month and all the happiness, all the hope in everyone's eyes is gone. She traces a finger down Emily's face.

"How the hell do we find these people again?"

With a sigh she puts the photo back and stands. She grabs a stack of files and heads out to the bullpen to distribute them. She sees the empty desks of Reid, Morgan and, of course, Emily. She walks over and stares at her wife's desk.

For the first time in a long time she wonders if she was a fool to fall in love with another FBI agent.


	6. Chapter 6

Rossi stares out his office door. He sees JJ staring, forlornly at Emily's desk. Just a few months ago he had watched the blonde almost break as Emily nearly died of hypothermia-related issues in Alaska. And a month later he had seen the brunette defy medical and physical odds with a busted ankle to bring JJ home to her. When was the last time he'd actually seen them talk to each other?

He looks back at his office. He gets up and walks over to his bookshelf. He lifts up a picture from his first go around at the FBI. A young, eager Aaron Hotchner smiles for the camera. When had Aaron stopped smiling? Would he ever smile again?

The BAU was the crazy idea of a few agents. They took the old adage "those who don't know their past are doomed to repeat it" and applied it to murderers, rapists, and every kind of criminal they could think of. They had spoken to some of the most notorious convicts and those who never even made the A Section of The Washington Post. Some of those men would never even be known outside the community they had devastated.

But Rossi, Jason Gideon, and Max Ryan had spoken to them all. They compiled their stats. They consulted with psychiatrists and psychologists. They got brain scans and found out what kind of damage to the brain could cause an otherwise peaceful man to become a killer. They had never spoken to someone like George Foyer. He was a one of a kind. And they would never get to speak to him now.

Aaron Hotchner had seen to that.

It was easy to tell himself that if they had been able to remain at the funeral, if they could have helped Aaron complete the mourning ritual, that things would have gotten better. But would they have? Or would they still be lost in the past?

As he walks back to his desk he sees JJ has not gone far. She stands beside Emily's desk staring up at Aaron's dark office. All the files she had carried in are still in her hands as she turns and heads back to her office.

Rossi knows he should call out to her; should offer to take a few of those files. But he can't do it. Not yet. He drops back down in his chair.

Maybe it was time to walk away. For good this time.


	7. Chapter 7

A few nights later JJ wakes to an empty bed. Again. She looks at the clock: 3:39 a.m. She runs a hand over Emily's pillow then gets up. Slipping on her robe, she walks to the top of the stairs.

The moonlight coming in the window shows Emily sitting on the couch. On the table in front of her is a bottle of Scotch that had been a wedding gift. The wax label is still unbroken, the glass that sits beside it empty. When she wakes in the night, Emily sits staring at the bottle as if it will somehow ease her pain by osmosis.

JJ sighs and walks downstairs. No words are exchanged. Their condo has been mausoleum silent since Nashville. Well, since Foyet, really. And it wasn't getting better.

JJ pours herself a glass of juice. She stands at the island drinking it, staring at Emily's silhouette. Why the hell aren't they reaching for each other? It would be easy to blame Emily and her compartmentalizing but JJ knows she is just as guilty.

Are they scared to reach for each other? Scared to end up causing the other's death? Scared of becoming Hotch and Hailey? But by allowing this divide to stretch between them, weren't they doing just that? Becoming Hotch and Hailey?

JJ puts her glass in the sink. Wiping the tears that stain her cheeks she starts back towards the stairs. The words come to her so quietly, so unexpectedly she's not sure if she really heard them at first.

"I'm scared, Jennifer."

JJ slowly turns. Blue eyes collide with brown. How long had it been since they had looked into each other's eyes? How long since they had read the pain they were both drowning in?

JJ steps towards the couch, still not sure if Emily had actually spoken. Emily lifts a shaking hand to wipe away her own tears. JJ knows now that, yes, Emily had said those three words. She crosses her arms across her chest.

"Of what?"

Emily turns and looks at the Scotch. "I want so badly to drink it. To make it burn away everything I'm feeling, everything I remember. I just want to fall into it forever. I know if I open that bottle I will be lost and there will be no coming back. Last night I was okay with that but then I heard Henry start to cry. Tonight I was about to crack it open and you walked down the stairs. I keep asking for signs to tell me what we did wrong, what we did right, how we can heal. Maybe I've been missing them." She turns back to JJ. "Maybe Henry and now you are the signs telling me how to heal?"

Her words are said with such desperate hope JJ's heart breaks. She walks over and moves the Scotch away, taking it's place on the coffee table.

"Maybe we've both been missing the signs because we weren't ready to see them. I'm scared, too, Emily. I'm so scared of losing you I almost missed that I'm already losing you." She takes Emily's hand. "We're all broken inside. None of us has been strong enough to lift up the others. We've always been able to do that before. God, Emily, if I can't save the team I want to at least save you."

Emily pulls JJ into her lap, holding her as close as she can. "God, Jen, all I want to do is heal the hurt I see in your eyes. I just don't know how. I wasn't even sure I could heal us both so I just let us stay broken. I am so sorry."

JJ shakes her heads. "No apologies allowed for either of us." She lifts Emily's chin and stares into her eyes. "We're not guilty of anything but hurting. We all hurt and heal differently. But I don't care how hurt I am, I am here for you, sweetheart."

"I love you so much. I'm here for you, too. Please tell me it's not too late to save us? If it is, give me that bottle so I can obliterate my mind."

JJ gives Emily a soft kiss. "It's not too late. As long as there is breath in my body it is not too late."

They kiss again, deeper this time. Almost as if it's a actual sound, they both hear something click back into place. Like the workings of an engine, a couple of pistons start to fire within them. They may not be running at full speed yet but they were no longer in danger of sinking.

As the kiss ends, JJ lays her head on Emily's shoulder. They sit there through the night, just allowing their love to continue to mend that which has been damaged.


	8. Chapter 8

Morgan pounds the bag, waiting for it to almost get back to him before hitting it again. He hates it when no one is here to spot the bag. But when you work out at 6 a.m. it's rare to have someone to help. That's why he's surprised when two hands suddenly stop it's momentum.

"This should help."

He straightens from his boxing stance. He stares into the eyes of Emily Prentiss. He sees signs of life within the brown. She simply raises an eyebrow and nods towards the bag. He nods and retakes his stance. This time he can pound the bag relentlessly, the strong brunette able to keep it steady for him.

After half an hour he stops. He walks over and picks up his towel. They stare at each other for a few minutes. Finally he breaks the silence.

"I wouldn't have let you shoot him," he states simply.

She nods, a ghost of a smile on her face. "I know."

Morgan smiles and it reaches his eyes for the first time in days. "We okay?"

Emily smiles broadly. "Yeah, we're okay."

And that's all the best friends need to say. They continue their work out as they had in the past: together.


	9. Chapter 9

A hand reaches beyond Garcia and turns off the computer screen she is looking at. She spins around furious.

"What the HELL do you think you're doing?"

Morgan takes in the subdued clothing, the plain black-rimmed glasses. He shakes his head. "Oh, no you don't, Miss Thang."

He reaches beyond the still angry Garcia and picks up her neon-green framed glasses. He slides off the black ones and puts on the green ones.

"Better. Still missing something, though."

"I asked what the HELL do you think you're doing? And I expect an answer, Derek Morgan!"

He leans over, his hands on the arms of her chair. "I'm looking for my goddess. I think she's lost her way." He reaches beyond her and turns off a second computer screen. "Foyet is dead. And I think it's time we stop letting him claim more victims."

"But if I can just—"

"No, Baby Girl. We did the best we could with what we had. We will learn a lot from the mistakes we made and, God help us, if we ever run into someone like "The Reaper" again we will be ready for him. But we can only be ready if we stop reliving that case over and over."

"I just feel that I let you all down. Especially…especially Hotch," she laments.

"You let no one down, Penelope. You never do. You are the glue that holds us together. How many times have you taken a list of suspects and boiled it down to one for us? How many times have you called after unearthing that one little puzzle piece we didn't even know was missing?" He kisses her on the forehead. "You are the Goddess of Quantico for a reason. And no one will ever take your place."

She finally smiles at him. "You always know what to say to me."

"I'm just sorry I didn't say it sooner. I love you, Garcia."

"I love you, too."

She stands up and they exchange a warm hug. As it ends he makes a show of looking her top to toe.

"You know, if you don't get at least 15 colors in your wardrobe soon I'm going to think you don't care about us anymore," he jokes.

She pats his shoulder. "Give me ten minutes, my God of Chocolate Thunder."

He nods. "You got it."


	10. Chapter 10

"You know, if you weren't so scared of computers your searches would be a lot easier."

Reid doesn't even turn around. "Most of these notes haven't been digitized yet," he mutters.

"That's because most of them have been turned into books or teaching lessons already," Garcia points out.

"True but there may be something in the originals that was missed. Something that could have—"

"Could have what, Reid? Could have gotten Hotch there faster? Could have kept Foyet from escaping prison? Could have made his gun jam? What could these notes have done that we didn't do?"

Reid opens his mouth to try to form an argument but can't. Garcia turns him around to stare into his face.

"This case sucks so bad because we are personally connected to it. And it will haunt us in some ways forever. But are we going to let Foyet murder us, too?"

Reid looks away, not wanting Garcia to see the tears in his eyes. She turns his head back.

"Reid, when was the last time you spouted random facts to members of the team? When was the last time you heard us holler 'Reid' to stop those facts?" she asks with a grin. It's infectious and he grins, too. "We need that from you, Reid. We need you to take an innocuous comment and turn it into a 30 minute spiel on the origins of the universe and how "Dr Who" got it wrong."

"I very rarely correct 'Dr Who'," Reid points out quietly.

Garcia chuckles. "Well, maybe you should start. But whatever you do, don't get so lost down here looking backward that you forget to look forward and see that the sun is still shining, the world is still turning, and Emily is still as big a nerd as you."

He finally breaks and laughs. "She just hides it better."

"Not always. Ask Morgan about her knowledge of who played 'Dr Who' when?" she says with an evil grin.

Reid raises an eyebrow, surprised. "Really? Hmmm…might have to quiz her on that myself."

"Oh, Boy Wonder, she will hide it from you if you ask. Morgan tricked it out of her before she'd had her coffee."

He chuckles. "Good to know." He looks around at the dusty archive room he is in. "I guess it's time to get out of here and back to my desk."

"Yep." She threads her arm through his. "I'm sure JJ has plenty of cases for you to look over. I fear we've all been a little slack lately."

"True. But today we turn the corner, right?"

"Right," Garcia nods.

For the first time Reid notices what she's wearing.

"Hey, you're colorful again."

"Yep. And I will be from now forward. That's my promise to you."

He smiles. For some reason the colors bring him happiness. There's no scientific explanation for it. He just knows he suddenly believes that things really will be okay.


	11. Chapter 11

"You know, they say if you sit and stare a wall too long it will drive you insane."

Rossi slowly turns his head to stare at Reid. The lanky man leans against the door frame, half in half out of the office. There seems to be a lightness about the young man that had been missing lately.

"Of course, in some it can be a sign of intense concentration. You could be thinking deep, meditative thoughts. So, which is it? Madness or genius?"

Rossi sits forward in his chair. "It's me thinking I should pay maintenance to put a lock on my door."

Reid walks on in and sits down. "I used to spend a lot of time in here. When it was Gideon's office we played a lot of chess. We'd also work on my theses and his lesson plans for the academy."

Rossi taps his fingers impatiently. "I assume you're going somewhere with all of this?"

"Yep. See, when Gideon left I spent time in here for a different reason. I kept asking myself what I had done wrong. What I had missed that could have kept him from leaving? What did we do wrong that Frank finally won?"

"And did you get an answer or did I move in too soon?" Rossi asks.

"Maybe…maybe we never find out what we did wrong and we are just supposed to move on, learning as best we can from all this shit," Reid answers, once again proving his genius with such a simple but true statement.

Rossi slowly sits back. "Do you think it's that simple? We just…move on and forget how devastated Aaron's life is?"

"I didn't say we forget. I say we learn as best we can. We know his life and Jack's life are irrevocably changed. We know our lives are, too. Are we ever going to forget the mistakes we made? No. Are we going to recognize certain signs sooner next time? Yes. Will there be a next time? Sadly…yes. The inhumanity doesn't stop just because we want it to or because we need to mourn."

Rossi stares at Reid a second then grins. "In other words, you're telling me to get my ass out of this office and get to work."

Reid gives him a lop-sided grin. "Essentially, yes, that's exactly what I'm telling you."

Rossi starts to laugh…and it feels good. "I guess we better go see JJ. I'm sure she has files for us." Reid nods and stands. "And, Reid?" Reid looks back. "Thanks."

"Any time," he offers with a smile.


	12. Chapter 12

JJ looks up at the knock on her door. Her entire team walks into her office.

"You planning to share those cases or you going to work them all yourself?" Morgan asks.

JJ smiles. "Well, if you people would actually stay around your desk during the day I might trust you to work on them," she jokes back. She stands and points to the small table against one wall. "Green is Rossi, Blue is Emily, Yellow is Reid, and Pink is Morgan," she says pointing to the various Post-It notes on the stacks.

"Hey! Why am I the pink ones and Emily's are blue?" Morgan whines.

"Because Emily loves my blue eyes and those notes will serve to remind her why she should get her paperwork in on time," JJ states sweetly.

Morgan laughs. "Damn, Prentiss, didn't realize your slow work habits could affect your night life!"

Emily raises an eyebrow. "I didn't either. And it's totally not fair because I have nothing to hold over Jen's head. Gonna have to think on this a bit," she winks to her wife as she leaves with her stack.

As everyone leaves with their cases, JJ sits back in her chair and smiles. She looks at the wedding picture again. The bruises had healed on the outside. On the inside there were some fresh ones. But those too would heal with time.

That evening, Emily is finishing the dishes as JJ gets Henry ready for bed. Once everything is put up, Emily heads upstairs. She arrives in time to hear the end of his bedtime story.

"No matter where you go, no matter where you are, no matter how big you grow and even if you stray far, I'll love you forever 'cause you'll always be my baby star."

Emily squats down beside them. Henry reaches over and grabs at her lips.

"Well, aren't you the impatient one tonight? But I guess I owe you, don't I. I've missed our time lately, Champ, and I'm sorry. I promise to make it up to you."

She kisses his cheek and takes a moment to inhale the scent of him. She had worried her foul mood would scare him somehow. Now she knows she had missed a chance to have him help heal her.

"You are a touchstone for me, Henry. I hope I never forget that again," she whispers to him.

JJ just smiles at her two loves as Emily starts to sing. Soon Henry is asleep in his Mommy's arms. Emily stands and takes him from JJ. She gets him settled in his crib, pulling his blanket up over him. JJ walks up beside Emily. The two women watch their son sleep for almost half an hour. Emily finally wraps her arm around JJ's shoulder.

"Time for bed, Mrs. Prentiss."

"You're not him, you know," JJ states.

Emily turns to her wife, confused. "What?"

JJ stares into her eyes. "You could have opened that Scotch and had a drink. You could have downed the whole bottle and you still wouldn't be your father, Emily."

Brown eyes fill with tears. "How did you know?"

JJ smiles. "Because I'm your wife. And I love you."

Emily leans down and captures JJ's lips in a sensuous kiss. "I love you so much. I'm sorry I got so lost."

"We all got lost. But the important thing is we all found our way home again."

Emily nods and leads her wife to bed. Tonight they would truly come alive again.


	13. Chapter 13

Erin Straus watches the team from beyond the glass doors. Emily Prentiss has her head down, as she writes notes about the case she is reviewing. Reid says something to Morgan, causing the bald agent to throw a wadded up piece of paper at the genius.

Rossi walks through and appears to be scolding the boys like a father would.

Straus wanders down the hall and glances into JJ's office. Seeing the liaison on the phone she listens for a moment.

"Yes, sir, I understand. I need to run this case past my team." She listens a moment. "Yes, sir. We'll be able to leave tomorrow morning. Yes, sir, I understand that time is of the essence but we are having major storms here and the jet is grounded until they pass. We can start to work on a preliminary profile before we leave." She listens again. "Sheriff, I promise this will be our primary focus as soon I present it to them. And the sooner I get off the phone the sooner we get to your case." She nods. "Exactly. Thank you, Sheriff. I call you tomorrow with the team's ETA."

Straus moves on before JJ sees her. Her next stop is the technical analyst's office. This time she can't observe unseen.

"Garcia."

The vibrant woman spins around in her chair, her face full of fear. "Chief Straus," she squeaks. "How can…how can I help you?"

"I was just checking to see what you're working on."

"Oh, uh, well," she starts to point to the various monitors and the screens on each one, "I'm running 2 scans for Morgan on a serial rapist, Reid has asked me about a series of kidnappings so that's here, Rossi is working on 2 home invasions that may be linked, Emily has me pulling recent parolees who may be sending threatening letters to police in Minneapolis, and JJ just sent me a new case for the team and I am pulling some preliminary information on the victims."

Straus raises an eyebrow. She had never realized just how much Garcia worked on at any given time. All the monitors are taken with the cases she had mentioned. "It was my understanding you had been doing additional research on the Foyet case."

"I was. And I may again in the future. But right now current cases are our focus, not old ones," Garcia tells her.

"I see. Well, carry on," Straus orders as she walks out of the room.

She wanders back towards the BAU meeting room. She sees the team gathering to hear about their new case. They smile. They joke with each other. They prepare for business. Maybe there really was no blame to lay on anyone. And maybe, just maybe this team would still be the best the FBI has to offer.

Maybe.

Straus turns and goes back to her office. She looks at the file box containing everything she had accumulated on the team. With resignation, she picks it up and shoves it in her closet…in case she needs it in the future.


End file.
